It Happens
by Mikin Ishida
Summary: Death happens. We know it but still it is hard to accept. Mark tells us the story of how he and and the rest of the bohemians deal with death. All cannon couples included. Please review! Rating for mentions of drugs and language.


**Author Notes: My new project. Let me know what you think of this! I have the next chapter written, I just need to type it so if you like it I will type it! This story is in Mark's POV. **

**Disclaimer: I own nothing. Characters belong to Jonathan Larson. **

It Happens

Chapter One: Knowing Doesn't Make it Easy

Death happens. It's a natural cause, there is no stopping it. It can happen slowly or in the blink of an eye. Makes you wonder what the big deal is. People die. Everyone dies. You are going to die. I am going to die. But knowing that doesn't make it any easier to accept.

It's not as if dealing with death is anything new to me. I've dealt with is since I was little; when my grandfather died. I was young, maybe six or seven, but I still remember my mother bawling at his bedside. My father, trying to look strong, but the tears on his face said otherwise. I remember standing there, staring at my grandfather, trying to comprehend what was happening. For all I knew he was sleeping, but why was everyone crying? I pulled on my mothers' skirt, asking why she was upset and why my grandfather wasn't waking up.

"Because he's dead! He's gone and he's never coming back!" she screamed and I was instantly hurt. My father placed his hand on her back, trying to calm her, but she still burned with anger. I didn't know it then, but that anger wasn't necessarily directed toward me. Nowadays I can understand how sad she felt, and how much you don't realize how much just one little thing, in this case an innocent question from a young child, can set you off.

It wasn't until they were lowering my grandfather into the ground that I understood that he was never coming back. As they piled dirt upon his grave, the six or seven year old version of me began to cry.

At least that's how I remember it. When you're young like that, death feels like a dream you wish you would wake up from. As you get older, it feels like a nightmare. I was lucky enough not to have to face death for a long time after that, with the exception of a few pets here and there. This whole thing really began just after I moved to New York City. It's safe to say we were all happy once, full of life and enjoying ourselves as much as we could. Then things began a slow downfall.

Benny, my roommate from college, moved out with his rich girlfriend, Allison, whom we all refer to as "Muffy" just to piss him off. Then Collins, a friend of mine from high school, discovered he was HIV positive. He says it was unprotected sex. That should have been our first warning sign that death loomed over us, but being the young and reckless "teenagers" that we were, we ignored it and moved on. Things took another turn for the worse when Roger, my best friend since way back in elementary school, started doing drugs with his girlfriend April, a girl he'd met at one of his many band gigs. We all knew what they were doing, it was hard to miss when they would stumble into the loft in the early morning hours, giggling and making out before falling into bed until noon. The random, small, empty, bags that would be scattered in the bathroom, Rogers' room and occasionally the living room were another sign. Then one day when I walked into Rogers' room to grab some laundry, I spotted it, a needle. Everything we tried to pretend wasn't there suddenly became real. I tried to ignore it, saying they'd get over it or it would grow old. How naive I was.

Looking back, I blame myself for it. I purposely ignored Roger and April's drug use in order to focus on my own problems like my girlfriend Maureen, the fact that I was jobless, and my annoying mother who keeps calling. Of course those things all seem insignificant now. Remembering them only makes me angry because I used them as an excuse to ignore the real problem.

Our wake up call: finding April dead in the bathroom. She'd slit her wrists in the bathtub and left a note to Roger saying "We've got AIDS" taped to the mirror. I've never seen so much red in my life. I remember feeling sick and sweaty. My body froze as I stared at April's pale, blood-covered body. I remember my heart racing as I heard Roger coming up behind me, asking what was wrong. He was so high he couldn't smell the blood.

The only thing I remember from those days are screaming and crying from Roger's withdrawal. Not too long after April died, Collins accepted a job offer to teach at MIT and left. Not too long after that, Maureen dumped me for another woman, Joanne. Then I was left alone with Roger and his death sentence. Weeks passed. Roger was clean, Maureen and I were on "speaking terms" and Collins had returned. That year, we met Mimi, an HIV positive dancer who had become smitten with Roger, and Angel, and HIV positive drag queen drummer who had fallen in love with Collins. Of course, as Maureen's company became more constant, so did the presence of her girlfriend Joanne, whom I'd become friends with through a tango dance. Together we were one big happy family.

Of course we forgot about it, but we were then again reminded that death still loomed over us. In late October, we lost Angel to AIDS. In December, we almost lost Mimi, but somehow she cheated death and remained with us, but nowadays we see her time is limited. Which brings me to now, the present, after all the loss we've suffered, we know our future only brings more. I dread the day I will loose Mimi, Collins and Roger. I don't even like to think about it but every time one of them coughs, it's a constant reminder of what is to come.

Walking home one day, I decide to pass by the graveyard. I walked down the rows of graves until I glanced upon one.

_April Erricson  
__1967-1989 _

I sighed and continued up the rows until I reached the one I'd wanted to see.

_Angel Dumott Schunard_  
_1966-1990_

So simple; a name and a date. That'd be me one day. Six feet under. Gone, with a rock with my name engraved on top. But my friends will get there a lot sooner than I will. Death happens, and it sucks, but why must it loom over us? I guess the paths we walk, the mistakes we make, the people we meets, all lead us to where we are. Who knew it would end up this way?

It was well into February now. Still cold and we're still without heat. It was only in the early afternoon, but I was eager to get home. As I climbed the stairwell, I could hear Roger's pleas. I could tell he was crying and begging for something.

"Roger?" I yelled but received no reply.

I sped up my pace and burst into the loft only to find the living room was empty.

"Please no…" I could hear him whisper.

"Love you baby…"

I opened the door to Roger's room and found him sobbing over Mimi's body. I stared at him. She looked like she was sleeping, just like my grandfather did. He looked down at her, then up at me and nodded sadly.

"Oh shit…" I mumbled before I stepped forward and grabbed my best friend into a hug, where he sobbed heavily into my shoulder.

_Mimi Marquez  
__1968-1991_

**Author Notes: Well what do you think? Let me know! Yes I am still working on 'The Breaking of the Dam' Expect an update soon if you're reading that. CollegeBusy. Review! **


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